Confessions of a Baldy
by Something Less Than Epic
Summary: A set of excerpts - each new paragraph is a different entry, by the way, thanks to damned formatting - from the journal of a Turk. Disturbingly odd.


The following document has been drawn from the personal files of one [name omitted], heretofore known as Operative Rude, Shinra Registration Number ST8762570. It contains selected excerpts from his diary – only recently discovered in his personal quarters on site – that we believe will serve well to provide an analysis of the man. The contents of this journal have provided some interesting insights into his character, insights that had never been revealed before this time. Operative Rude, as most execs should know, is a long-standing member of the Shinra Manufacturing Department in Administrative Research, or the Turks. Recently deemed a renegade alongside his fellow Turks, we intend to put this report to use in locating the fugitive and his comrades, as we have no other clues as to where they may be. Do note that these are excerpts, as most of the information we found in his diary was considered superfluous to our needs. For convenience, we have dated the entries as being both 'PrR' and 'PoR' – 'Pre- Rufus' and 'Post-Rufus'.  
  
7 Years PrR  
  
The day has finally arrived. I. . . I got accepted into the Turks. I was so happy. . . my new boss, Tseng, was such a nice guy; I couldn't even speak to him, I was so nervous. I must have come off as such a jerk, thick as a pole and just as quiet. I hope Tseng and the rest of the guys in the squad don't take it personally. Maybe I'll bake them all a cake. Either way, this has to be the happiest day of my life. Shinra. . . the Turks. . . I've waited so long. . . oh god, diary, I'm glad you're not one of the guys, 'cause I just know they'd make fun of me crying right now. I'm just so happy!  
  
6.5 Years PrR  
  
Things have been going a bit abysmally for me in the last few months, diary. You'd know, though – I complain in you just about every day, right? My tears mark so many of your pages. . . it's just, well, I can't open up to any of them. They're all manly men, and that kind of thing is beyond me. I just don't fit in. Just some big silent black statue who sits in the corner and grunts when he's addressed. How could I tell them I like classical music? 'The Dance of the Ancients'? Even some 'One Winged Angel', even though I find it a bit pretentious at points. . . and how could I ever tell the guys I go to. . . you know. . . plays? The theatre? I just don't know, diary.  
  
6 Years PrR  
  
I guess I'm starting to fit in, diary. The guys have all just kind of pegged me as the strong, silent type. . . if only they knew I got strong from. . . well, lots of gymnastics. . . they probably all think I'm some kind of martial artist. I only know how to punch hard because of my daily Tae-Bo routine, after all! But I guess it wouldn't do to dissuade the guys about my image. There's nothing wrong with being seen as a solid professional, I suppose. . . it's just that, half the time, when I'm knocking some guy's teeth out, I just want to dust him off, apologize, and buy him a nice lemonade. You know?  
  
5 Years PrR  
  
I put in an anonymous request that Shinra increase its efforts in aiding the local elderly. Especially all those poor souls below the plate. They must have such a terrible life down there! I hope we can help.  
  
[three days later] Oh god, diary, I got home today and bawled my eyes out. One of the guys in the office put my request up on the news bulletin board. Everybody had a really good laugh at it. Everybody wanted to know who would. . . would. . . oh god, I can't say it. . . put up. . . ah I'll come back to this, I [the rest is illegible owing to watermarks]  
  
Okay. I'm okay. I ate some ice cream, and I feel better now. Yes, they wanted to know who would petition for such a stupid thing. I didn't say anything of course, but. . . god, I felt like such an idiot. They kept calling me – well, indirectly – a. . . a. . . oh god I can't [breaks off]  
  
I'm sorry, diary. I can't say what they called me. It's too painful.  
  
3.5 Years PrR  
  
Hi diary. A new guy got assigned to the Turks today. He replaced Carling, since Carling got pitched off the edge of the plate by that awful mobster just last week. I cried for so long after that. Not after I did some very painful things to the terrible criminal, of course, things that I felt terrible about after: but I couldn't help it! Carling had been so nice! Well, okay, maybe his slapping my. . . behind, got a little on my nerves, but, he was still a part of the team, you know? Well, anyway, the new guys name is Reno. Really spiky red hair. He's kind of a slob. Oh, if only everybody in Shinra pressed their suits every day like me. . . it'd be a happier world, I know it.  
  
Oh my god diary, you will not believe what Reno did to me today. I only saw him before – didn't talk to him until today – and he greeted me by saying, "What's up, my fag!" I was utterly flabbergasted! I didn't know what to say! Couldn't even shake his hand! Of course, the rest of the guys thought I was just being myself. Conrad laughed and called me their 'straight-man bitch'. Well, I wouldn't have any of that, and I lodged a formal complaint – anonymous, of course – about Conrad as soon as I got off work. Oh yes, he's in the hospital now, too. I sent him a nice bouquet of get-well flowers that I picked myself.  
  
This job is starting to wear on me, diary. All the killing, the hurting – I'm starting to get really violent! Conrad was only the start! I mean, I don't even like blood, and here I am, lobbing my poor co-worker through a window and onto Tseng's desk! I think I need a vacation. Especially away from that boorish Reno. He keeps calling me a fag. Does he have no respect for me? Doesn't he care about hurting a person's feelings?  
  
3.3 Years PrR  
  
I took a month off in Wutai. The people here are sooooo nice! I haven't had reason to cry for weeks now! Why, just yesterday, I had a very nice conversation with a young girl about her cats. We laughed and laughed, and ended up having a picnic out in the forest. I love it here so much. I wish I could just live here forever. [a long string off poorly drawn hearts follows this entry]  
  
I'm not sure, but I think that little girl stole some of my money. . . god, I couldn't stop crying. . .then a few children started throwing rocks at me. . . I . . . I think I have to leave [the rest is obscured by watermarks]  
  
I spent the whole ride back to Midgar reading my book on water lilies. How fascinating they are! [rest omitted owing to general lack of interest in subject at hand]  
  
2 Years PrR  
  
[illegible scribbles]  
  
Oh. My. God. My head is pounding today, diary. . . you see, last night, Reno called me a, well, fag because I wouldn't go out drinking with him. . . so I decided to give it a shot for once. . . I had two 'shooters', I believe they were called, and was out. . . I don't know how I got home this morning, but I had no pants. . . lord help me, I'm glad I wasn't seen! Or I think I wasn't. What would my sewing club think?  
  
My day today was terrible, diary. If I don't just kill myself I'll tell you why later.  
  
When I got into the office, everybody was gathered around the bulletin board, laughing at something. My head was pounding so I just rushed off to get some nice tea. Then something odd started to happen: people started to do this very odd. . . dance. . . in front of me. . . like, they'd go down low, and swivel their legs in and out, crouched over. . . when ten people had done this, I knew something was up, and I looked at the bulletin board. . . and. . . apparently Reno had gotten a shot of me doing that very dance the night before, up on the bar. I rushed home immediately and cried into my pillow, but not before putting my fist through a guard's face – I really have a violence problem lately. . . life sucks, diary.  
  
Everybody apologized the next day. I just stared at them all, like always. I guess that was enough, since they all seemed happy with that.  
  
I'm. . . going out drinking again with Reno tonight. He's even teaching me to play some cards. I'll try and not let things get out of hand this time. I really would prefer to just sit at home in a nice bubble bath, though.  
  
3 Days PoR  
  
Oh, diary, I'm in love! Lovelovelovelovelove! She's so beautiful. . . her skin, it's so delicate and smooth. . . and those eyes, I only saw them for a second, and they were glaring at me evilly, but they were so BEAUTIFUL, diary! Her hair. . . her. . . figure. . . oh, I'm blushing at that one, diary. . . I think her name is Tina; I'm not sure, though. Love! I love her sooooooo much! Plus you should see her fight!  
  
4 Days PoR  
  
Ohmygodohmygod, I saw her AGAIN! I was wrong, her name is Tifa! She is sooooooo BEAUTIFUL DIARY, I COULD JUST RUN THROUGH DAISIES SKIPPING AND SINGING [rest omitted owing to sickening sweetness]  
  
Oh yes, a new girl called Elena entered the squad. She's rather nice. I HEART TIFAAAAAAA  
  
6 Days PoR  
  
I ended up playing cards with the guys today, diary, and I won a whole heap of money! Bless you, Junon! Yes, I know gambling is bad and immoral, but, just once isn't so bad, right?  
  
Right? I'm not a bad man, am I? And now that I think about it, I wasn't looking for Sephiroth like I was supposed to. . . maybe gambling was bad after all. . . oh god this isn't good, what if I get fired for not doing my job? Ohgodoh[omitted]  
  
I secretly gave all the money I won back before leaving on the boat. I feel a lot better now, diary. I hope nobody is mad at me for it. . .  
  
13 Days PoR  
  
Tifa beat the stuffing out of me today! I'm so happy! [hearts]  
  
I almost forgot, diary: Reno got the truth out of me, that I. . . like Tifa. I thought I was going to blush so fiercely. . . all I could do is say her name. . .  
  
30 Days PoR  
  
We all went on vacation back to Wutai! I guess the people forgot who I was, 'cause I didn't get stoned this time! Oh, we had some trouble with a rather garish guy with a cigar, but I threw a knife at him and all was well. Pervert.  
  
36 Days PoR  
  
This Temple is really tacky.  
  
OHMYGOD DIARY, TSENG ALMOST DIED TODAY. I'm so flustered. That Sephiroth guy almost got him, diary, and when I found out, I was so shocked that I just stood there and didn't say anything. I sure hope Tseng pulls through [wetmarks]  
  
42 Days PoR  
  
Tifa beat me up TWICE in the last few days! Lord, is she strong! I'm glad we've been able to spend so much time together lately! I mean, I'll never be able to ask her out, that's for sure, but at least I can see her, you know? Even if, every time we meet, I wind up with a bloody nose. She must do a lot of Tae-Bo.  
  
Now that I think about it, I'm kind of glad Tifa and her friends stopped me from going up in that rocket. I don't like heights at all.  
  
46 Days PoR  
  
Well, this is it, diary. Meteor is coming – I cried buckets over that one! – and everything seems hopeless. Shinra is falling apart. And I heard in the last hour that President Rufus is. . . dead. The Turks and I are all heading out to. . . well, we're not sure. Some bright new future, I hope. All I know is that I'll get to see my precious Tifa one more time before the end. . . I hope she goes a bit easier on me this time, though: she kind of dislocated my jaw a bit last time when she stepped on it. . . anyway, diary, I think I'm just saying goodbye now. It's time I stood on my own, and stopped relying on you. I need to grow up, I suppose, and age thirty seems a good time to start. Just, as a way of ending this all off, I want to cite a poem that I think tells my emotions on this subject well. . . [omitted due to shittiness]  
  
This ends Operative Rude's diary. Unfortunately, these events will not aid us in locating the Operative, as Shinra is already no more and, frankly, this entire document is a fake. Happy Birthday, Rude!  
  
---  
  
The giant, smoothly-domed Rude surveyed his 'birthday card' – which was made up of six stapled sheets – levelly, utterly expressionless. His two compatriots, one lounging about slackly and smoking while the other buried her face in pillows and giggled manically, sat across from the birthday boy.  
  
Rude studied the card, front to back, side to side, his eyes clad in sunglasses, as always. He seemed to have no opinion about it whatsoever: Reno, however, knew better, as he'd constructed the whole document personally, taking as many jabs at Rude as possible. The bigger man was very emotional under the surface – one just had to know how to push his buttons.  
  
Rude paused at one section. His lips, perhaps subconsciously, cited it for his fellow Turks: "Yes, I know gambling is bad and immoral. . . but, just once isn't so bad, right?" His brow furrowed ever so slightly at the excerpt. Reno grinned maliciously. Elena's howls of poorly suppressed laughter broke out, renewed, through the pillow.  
  
Rude folded the document carefully, setting it upon the table before him. He had but one comment: "Using 'bad' twice in the same sentence is poor form."  
  
Reno barely had time to laugh at that before the big man was upon him, pummeling his much smaller, wiry comrade.  
  
---  
  
Reno managed to escape the battle with only a broken thumb and a cracked rib. Rude had stalked off somewhere to burn his card, not to mention Reno's 'gift' to him: a blowup doll at had been specially ordered. Bearing long, brown hair and distinctly reddish brown eyes, not to mention a huge, inflated bust, it looked remarkably like Tifa.  
  
Elena pulled up a chair beside her newly bandaged superior. "So tell me: was any of that real?"  
  
Despite his pain, Reno tossed her a wry grin. "Sure. I did call him a fag plenty."  
  
Yes, I know Tae-Bo probably doesn't exist in FF7. So sue me. 


End file.
